ch-ch-ch-changes are coming

Time may change me, but I can't trace time.
-- David Bowie

During my graduate studies, I took a 3-day seminar entitled Worship. Bethel assigned one of the oldest faculty members at the school, so I was expecting the obligatory traditional vs. contemporary argument and came prepared to speak my peace. The discussion began on cue, but I grimaced as the tangent veered from characteristics of worship to a more generalized defense of Christian America and the concern for its well-being.

If you grew up an educated evangelical, you are aware that "the United States was founded upon Christian principles" and that the demise of these principles is the greatest threat to our faith. Therefore, we should make every effort to hold our ground against the liberal opposition, because a law void of Christian principles is no law to be served.

[Here I was thinking that a Christ dependent on our law was no Christ worth serving...]

I suggested that becoming the minority would be the best thing to happen to the American church since its institution. For the first time in our nation's history, believers would have the opportunity to teach the difference between common and holy living without the sacramental melting pot to which we've grown accustomed. Like everything else American, the church offers infinite options to suit our lifestyles, time restraints, and standards of comfort. If we are not "called" to greater service (i.e. degree of sacrifice) then we can reap the benefits of our faith without change.

So let's not fancy the language as we stand up for Christian principles -- most are not as concerned with their fellow American choosing hell as they are with the threat of a less comfortable or entertaining life. All I'm saying is that our physical doom and gloom lacks kingdom perspective.

I may offer the impression that I enjoy change because I don't mind reestablishing myself in new locations or social circles. That impression would be inaccurate; as with any man, complacency is the easier road to navigate. To deliver a message of reformation, I must batter the flesh that resists movement. When I take my eyes off Christ, I succumb to the fears common to us all.

This much is true: little difference will be noticed as the calendar is replaced this evening. We can all look back one, five, or ten years and begrudge the changes that have affected our comfort. We can also choose to follow the Spirit in 2012 and concern ourselves less with maintaining our current position. This world will fail you, whether you cling to it or not. Politicians will continue to make choices that represent America's godlessness, and the people will continue to seek more darkness -- this is what faithless people have always done.

However, our call is not to legislate, but to redeem. When we turn the hearts of people by living as light, this will be reflected upon our communities. Where His Spirit is present, justice and truth will be upheld without our protective measures.

But seek first his kingdom and righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. (Matt. 6:33-34)

the mall

As a toddler and preschooler, there was a given: being taken to the mall provided infinite opportunities for my bottom to be swatted. I nagged, tugged, and dragged my feet. I told my mommy 217 times (on average) that I was bored. I crawled under the circular clothing racks, because my imagination viewed them as forts and not as practical devices for practical adults. My older brother acted like an angel in front of my parents to make me look that much worse, only to prod me like a cattle when he knew they weren't looking.

Unavoidably, during that period between 11:30 and 1:00 on Sunday afternoon, my dad would utter those dreaded words: "Just wait until you get home."

I knew what it meant, and he never bluffed. He never forgot. I would sit quietly in the back seat for the next 30 minutes (what felt like 5 hours) knowing what was coming to me. This was what the mall meant to me.

Shortly after I received my first set of wheels, I grew stupid -- I began liking the mall. The mall became associated with spending my own money, unsupervised tom foolery, and meeting rival-school girls that didn't know I was a complete tool. It felt like anything was possible at the mall.

Some seven years later, I stopped cold turkey. I remember my 23-year-old self shopping with my work buddies and taking my girlfriend out for dinner...and then it ceased -- all of it -- seemingly out of nowhere.

*************************

Our therapist at work has resigned for a better opportunity. With all the uncertainty in residential care, our kids are having to part with one more caring person in their lives. As a going away gift, the therapist decided to meet all seven at the mall to Build-A-Bear.

Lucky me...

My mind immediately did its thing as we entered the crowded parking lot: "Don't these people have anything better to do? Who returns items two days after Christmas? I thought the economy was bad and people didn't have money to spend. How are we going to find a place to park a 12-passenger van while the girls maintain their patience?"

[It occurred to me later in the evening that these people didn't have anything better to do and may not have been spending money. It was slushy and cold outside, and an indoor Indiana mall is the closest thing to a winter park.]

As we entered the mall, I immediately identified my insecurity; I found this ironic, since I had visited the mall to run from my insecurities as a teenager. Mall couples walked the aisles two by two. Younger teenage couples held hands. Young married couples led their perfect toddler children. I'm not a huge fan of winter, but I adore winter attire. Everyone looked beautiful and happy, and I was feeling ghastly.

We made our way to the Build-A-Bear workshop, and I tried to fake a smile as the girls picked out their bears. We stood in a long line, and the girls were surprisingly calm about it, so I had some time to peer around the store. I caught my co-worker's eye and whispered an impulsive thought:

"I want a penguin."

She shook her head in affirmation and approached the therapist with our plan. If the two of us felt out of place as middle-aged singles in a museum of couples, we could briefly identify with the children. I sat next to our girls on the floor as I inserted the penguin's heart and pledged to love him. I filled out Petey's birth certificate and browsed the overpriced clothing that would suit him. All that was missing was the circular rack in which we would play.

I woke up this morning and discovered Petey in the box, wondering what drove me to spend $17 on a stuffed penguin for myself. Perhaps I'm passing through another stage of grief: Petey representing everything in life that I feel I've missed. What I feel is emotionally underdeveloped; I don't understand how a 33-year-old is supposed to feel and act. I've spent my entire adulthood working with young people, and the longer I'm at it, the more I feel like I'm wasting away. Young people do not keep me young: they only force me to acknowledge the distance between myself and a more appealing version.

Sorry, I didn't plan on being mopey in this post -- it sort of happened. I think I'll stay away from the mall.

my favorite Christmas verse

It is tradition in our household for me to read Luke 2:1-20 before we exchange gifts with one another. Such a familiar passage can easily become robbed of its power, as the circumstances of Christ's birth have become so accepted that we lose the wonder of "being there." Roughly ten years ago, I was drawn to this verse while reciting the narrative:

But Mary treasured all these things, pondering them in her heart. (Luke 2:19)

In the midst of Luke's typical play-by-play is this rare account of human emotion. It's like Luke is describing hundreds of mind-blowing events, and the woman in the middle can do little more than soak it up like a sponge. It must have hit her like a brick. After enduring every trial common to a woman giving birth, Mary finally had the chance to acknowledge, "Wowzers...that really just happened."

Can you imagine? Just a kid by modern description? Yesterday, Mary was a participant in a promise, but today there are angels, witnesses, and curious bystanders holding Mary's child as the center of attention. Is it possible to be more humbled and proud in the same moment? Mary's "treasuring" is in reality a protecting or guarding. It's taking note of the events around her and allowing "all these things" to solidify the truth of the Promise. The Greek term translated "pondering" literally means "to throw together." Mary captured the individual events in her heart and constructed the greater meaning: this son of hers was worthy of creation's praise.

I read that verse and I think of the greatest God moments in my own life, where even as a participant I feel like an open-jawed spectator. That's how magnificent He is. That's how blessed we are to be instruments of His glory.

#3 -- a love distorted

I was first introduced to Gary Chapman's Five Love Languages during an evangelism training session in college. I didn't give it much thought -- why would I need to explore how I love? Most of Chapman's material deals with our interactions with others; when we understand our own needs and the way in which we communicate love to others, we can eliminate the misunderstandings that occur when we do not receive exactly how we would give. Or we can learn to give in other ways if this is how our loved ones better receive.

Supposedly. The misunderstanding has not ceased.

For those not familiar with the terminology, Chapman identifies the following "love languages," arguing that most will enjoy each to some degree, but speak primarily through one:

• words of affirmation
• quality time
• receiving gifts
• acts of service
• physical touch

I still enjoy physical touch, and I faintly remember being a touchy, feely child (I know, right?), but my family sort of beat it out of me. Words of affirmation are nice, but compliments usually travel as far as the end of the sentence. I'm fairly independent; I acknowledge that I don't appreciate acts of service like I should. Gift-giving? I have a few amazing gift-giving friends, so I've had to muster enthusiasm at receiving more things. In fact, the gifts I adore are those that my loved ones made with their own hands, and I don't think it has anything to do with the gift-giving. It has much more to do with...

Time. Sweet, sweet time. I give it, I crave it, and there's never enough of it. It can be spent spiritually, socially, playfully, lazily, or affectionately, and if it is spent with me or spent for you, I'm on top of the world. I was the youth pastor that attended every volleyball game, Christmas concert, musical, speech, and graduation party. I preferred visiting a 7th grade lunch table to preaching a powerful sermon.

I enjoy spending hours of my time writing thoughtful or challenging comments for y'all bloggers. I'm regularly willing to drive hours to see someone, if I could presume that they wanted to see me. I once "wasted" gas to drive to central Illinois for a 12-minute cross country meet, because I knew it would mean something to the runner. For those that understand, offering my time can be a powerful and loving ministry.

But not always. One of my core students (whom I consequently visited the most) allegedly left our ministry because I didn't affirm her enough verbally: a strength of my predecessor. She missed the heart that I was trying to offer, and I missed what she needed to feel loved.

What does this have to do with guarding my heart?

Like that student, I expect others to be cognizant of the "signs" they reveal when they neglect my love language. 99% of the time, when my friends cancel plans, answer the phone mid-conversation, or God forbid...go to bed, they have perfectly legitimate reasons for doing so. Yet somewhere in the back of my mind, I consider the remote possibility that they don't like me as much. I'm much too proud to say something about it, so everything is cool until the next time my time is cut short. It builds and builds until I believe that they've chosen to allocate their time in more valuable assets than me.

I respond to this lie in one of two ways:

1. I flood them with my time, pleading for them to recognize how valuable they are to me.
2. I distance myself, waiting for them to prove their love by dropping their other plans.

It's usually some combination of the two, which only makes me appear bipolar, thus perpetuating the problem and making time spent awkward and miserable.

Great googly moogly...how did I end up like my dad?!? I will now hide in a deep, dark cave.

Guarding my heart means allowing others to love me through other means and offering them the grace to value their time differently. It means loving selflessly, not intentionally flooding people with my time to fish for theirs (and getting upset, because it never works).

If there's one thing that can be consistently said about me, I'm painfully aware of my faults. I'm always looking for God to reveal more and further cleanse my heart. As I fight to guard my heart against the assumptions I've made about you, I would appreciate your grace and prayers. Keep on loving from His overflow and the confusion will dissipate in turn.

UPDATE (12/24): If ever I should consider myself a gift-giver, all I must do is wrap presents to expose the sheer incompetence of the hands God has given me.

#2 -- social network life support

It began innocently enough...

On a particularly lonely Friday evening, I packed my computer and headed to the coffeehouse. Only a handful of people were lounging at Picasso's, so I found a corner table where I could sulk in privacy. I was browsing the profiles of numerous companions back home, when an unsolicited voice appeared from behind:

"Oh, you're on Facebook? We should be friends!"

After two months of working at the shop I managed, this was my first interchange I with our newest employee. She was a pre-med student at the University of Missouri, and I hadn't seen much reason to converse with a kid working limited hours opposite my schedule. All I had gathered was that she wore a little too much eye makeup, she had poor taste in men, and she giggled when she was nervous.

The next weekend, I was finishing my Sunday morning dish shift and spotted her sitting in the house. Making light of our previous conversation, I asked if we had become friends yet. Her eyes betrayed her attempt at a cheery expression, so I sat next to her and asked what was wrong. She had hit her first academic wall and wasn't accustomed to needing help with her studies. This unfamiliarity compounded with homesickness brought her to tears. As her mascara and eyeliner streamed down her face, I noticed a beauty and vulnerability through the eyes of Christ. This girl had a lovely heart, but she didn't know Jesus.

Over the next few weeks, we scheduled regular chats, and I learned the depth of my friend's spiritual captivity. Satan had used family, church, and the lacking integrity of Christian males to turn her away from the Gospel, so while she acknowledged a "light" within me, she resisted accepting Christ by faith. To her, I was a superman detached from her own blemishes rather than a sinner saved by grace. She had constructed for herself a lofty law to keep herself from further trouble, but it was a law all the same.

When she moved to Columbia on a more permanent basis, our entire relationship became built on Facebook statuses and comments; we attempted to schedule the occasional hangout; more often than not, her schooling (and dating relationships) prevented these. When we did get together, it became increasingly apparent that she had shut herself off to my faith, despite the "encouragement" of her responses to my blog posts.

Meanwhile, my fixation with reaping what I had sown was tearing me apart. Satan had convinced me that this could be a transactional relationship -- if I got her "saved," she would feel compelled to let me be a greater part of her life. He already knew that her heart was hardened. The dynamics of our relationship became twisted without verbal communication, leaving our occasional meetings fruitless for her and frustrating for me.

After moving back to Indiana, my friend Deron asked if Facebook could disrupt the natural order of relationships. For years, he concluded that people had allowed relationships to drift in and out of their lives, understanding that moving forward was an appropriate and healthy response to loss. We now live in an environment where letting go is frowned upon, and collecting our friends from the past allows us a false sense of intimacy.

A few weeks later, I deactivated my Facebook profile. I received a couple texts from long-distance friends; most of them were statements of understanding regarding my choice. As I was eating wings with my present friends, my phone buzzed. My former co-worker lamented that I had shut down our only form of communication. I replied that we'd have to work harder to make it work. I never heard from her again.

Our relationship ended the same place it began.

********************

I'm not promoting the idea that everyone should delete their accounts. In fact, I know believers who are incredibly gifted at networking for the sake of His Kingdom. But if you discover that Facebook has become nothing more than a crude mechanism keeping the heartbeat of a dead friendship alive, it's time to pull the plug. Do it for your heart.

lessons on guarding my heart -- #1

Aloof people are not cute or interesting; they are self-involved and childish. Spending my time chasing aloof people is fruitless, because aloof people want to be chased and are gratified by being chased. And despite how keen they might be on biblical community and worship, it's all a pursuit of affirmation in the end. Sometimes we must realize that despite our need for fleshly comfort, every other human being has not been placed on this planet to accept our situation...to love, yes -- not to accept and affirm.

Therefore, I have this to say for the cool, hipster dudes and the eccentric, artsy gals: I've got a piece of my heart waiting for you. It's yours...whenever you grow tired of playing games and choose to engage someone who loves you. In the meantime, I'll resist the urge to be hurt again.

hello...my name is anthony, and i love children's entertainment

Back in 2002, I was working my first real job, and a friend of a friend offered to rent me a room in his house. Since he worked nights, I was able to spend my afternoons browsing the extensive package from his satellite dish. It wasn't long before I entered a rut; each day I would head home to prepare dinner while watching my favorite show on the planet:

Even Stevens.

Okay, perhaps it wasn't an epic piece of television, but I continued to spend a couple more hours flipping between Disney, Nickleodeon, PBS, and ABC Family, never to be discovered by those who would judge me for concerning myself with the antics of the Mowry twins.

The only difference between a 23-year-old and a 33-year-old single guy watching children's programming in the privacy of his own home is shame. It's gone. I don't care who knows. I didn't grow up on family-friendly entertainment, so I'm getting mine now.

Which brings me to the point of this post: I've previously mentioned that I haven't seen Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin, The Lion King, or any of the remaining 90's animated blockbusters. I haven't watched a single Toy Story movie -- in fact, Finding Nemo is the only Pixar movie I've seen. Thus, I've decided to make up for lost time. Next time I have the impulse to watch a romantic comedy or a psych thriller, I'll head for the G or PG-rated section instead. This is the first New Year's Resolution of my life, if you want to call it that. It's the first December 17th Resolution you have ever known.

If I rent Tangled this Friday, it may just be a Festivus miracle.

nothing to do but write

I should've been asleep hours ago, but I'm still buzzing on the coffee I drank this afternoon. Not sure what's happening here; perhaps I've eaten too little.

We're supposed to find out before Christmas whether or not the residential agencies are successful in the courts. The state is making budget cuts that we feel have broken our mutual agreement from last year's settlement, and now a judge will decide if the state has breeched it. If we fail in this attempt, we can begin the appeal process, but not before the cuts go into effect.

Point being, at the end of the year, the likelihood that I lose my job could greatly increase.

In many ways, I'm hoping for that outcome. Yes, most days I'm good with the kids, but my job sort of reinforces the spiritual issues I'm working through with God (spending twelve hours a day neglecting my own needs). Earlier this week, I gave thanks to God when I considered how He's always provided for me. Since I was 15, I've never went longer than three weeks without a job. I've only interviewed for two jobs that I didn't get (both in youth ministry...because I wasn't married). I'm marketable in a variety of areas, I don't need a lot of money, and I enjoy the service industry, so I'm not concerned about it. Maybe I should be.

Yeah, two years is a long time for an apostle to plant His feet. When God gives me peace to leave, all that awaits is His timing and blessing.

chasing spiritual lies

During my latest blogging rounds, I was challenged by Laurel Anne on a lesson about love.

My enemy longs for me to corrupt love, viewing my "selflessness" as a transaction for receiving love, which is contrary to the point. Honestly, it hasn't worked out very well. Whenever the people in my life outgrow their need of me, multiple dysfunctions can occur:

1. I struggle to maintain the relationship, favoring my time towards those that still depend on me.
2. I feel insecure in their presence, wondering what I have to offer.
3. I become envious of relationships they are able to continue with others.
4. I expect abandonment and begin to emotionally distance myself.
5. I play the victim when the relationship ends.

At the heart of this dysfunction is pride. If I allowed myself to need other people (or felt worthy of being wanted), it wouldn't concern me whether these relationships were dependent on my usefulness. If my pride was broken, and I expressed to loved ones that they are needed, this would be a brand new experience. Have I used these words since I was a toddler? Scary thought.

I've felt that my intimacy with God has been lacking, and I recognize that this lie has crept into our relationship. When God has me on a "useful" altar of sacrifice, I can rely on Him to do the work. In my mind, the transaction is equal -- I'm willing to provide the useful vessel and He uses it. In some twisted way, I operate as if God's move is dependent on me.

However, when God has me on the sidelines, I struggle to admit my need. That's where He has me. The transaction is out the window. Either I depend on Him to be my everything or I am left with nothing.

getting softer by the year?

Two of the girls told me at dinner tonight that I was their "favorite staff." If they begin to call me "cool," I may as well turn in my badge.

aftermath of a divine appointment

Tonight, a friend introduced me to Bill and his wife Laney. I conversed until 2am with my new friends; we covered everything from the divisive nature of truth, to the building of God's kingdom, to faith, to marriage.

I must admit, the last topic has been a struggle this week. After reading some blogs that justify every reason I should expect to remain single, I asked some tough questions:

• If God has given me the desire to be a father of many, is it feasible to marry someone my own age? Is marrying younger reasonable or acceptable in this culture?
• Likewise, are there women who haven't spent the last ten years "getting their ducks in a row," so as to actually yield to the yoke that God has placed on my life?
• Would a 21st century woman choose to be led by me as her husband?

I'm hung up by Solomon's words. If "He who finds a wife finds what is good and receives favor from the Lord (Prov. 18:22)," then what is the man's responsibility in finding?

I've become increasingly convinced that the church has done men a disservice by promoting the idea that we must "wait" for a wife. I'm not saying that God doesn't prepare a season in which He releases and blesses us to pursue marriage, but rather that we have become so prone to distrusting our own motives that we do not diligently seek a wife as scripture suggests.

We sit on our hands waiting for her to be dropped from the sky while God is desiring our hearts to be so in tune with His that we know the peace of an honorable woman upon exposure to her heart. It requires no faith for me to marry the woman that God drops in my lap -- if He told me tomorrow who my wife was to be, we would be wed by the next day. Rather, I must trust that He has given me eyes to identify a righteous woman, solely because she reflects the glory of my Father.

I know that God is continuing that transformation; if it were up to my flesh, I would only marry a meek young virgin that had already laid herself before Him in ruin. While He may choose to bless me in that way, He also may bring peace to my heart through someone drastically different. I may be laughing like Sarah at the fulfillment of His plan, wondering why He chose such an unconventional method to fulfill the vision He placed on my heart...

like a caffeine I.V.

After years of raving about it, I finally purchased a Toddy Cold Brew System as a belated birthday gift from my parents. 'Tis the bachelor careworker's best ally against shift work!

three years

Three years ago, my church body embarked on a mission to reach the people of North St. Louis. A business plan was laid out, with a five-year plan for fulfilling this mission: a plan that was presumed to require over a million dollars to accomplish. A couple years shy of the proposal, the mission has seen each facet of the ministry come to fruition at a fraction of the cost. The missionaries have earned the favor of the impoverished community, they have brought hope to a commercially dead area of the city, and most importantly, they have done everything for Christ's honor and glory. There is no separation between the earthly function and the heavenly purpose of the ministry, for nothing is done that is useless to the building of His Kingdom.

I wanted to share this testimony from my discipler, because it demonstrates how much God will bless the ministry of those who fully submit to His eternal purposes, even here in the United States. I look forward to ministering with my brothers and sisters in St. Louis for years to come and seeing urban areas across the U.S. restored for His glory.

sending a false signal

Satan is a jerkface.

We know that he feasts upon our insecurities, built on lies that he would have us believe. Within our own mess, we often miss the damage that Satan has done in the lives of others; we form false conclusions about our relationships based on our own perceived inadequacies without considering that both parties may be under complementary attack.

Here's one for you: I hate talking on the phone, and I equally despise making plans. I'm not sure if anyone else can relate with this, but I grew up with a dad that frowned upon bringing the outside world into our household. Having people over was a rare event -- my school friends were allowed to come inside less than ten times during my childhood, and I was made to feel like I had done something wrong whenever the phone rang for me.

I still recall receiving a call the summer before 8th grade. Having returned from an incredible week of church camp, some female campers of a neighboring school got my number from a male friend that attended their church. My dad picked up the phone and handed it to me with an intrusive glare, continuing to watch me as I held an awkward conversation with a girl that was interested in me.

Once I got wheels, the social dysfunction ceased, but only because my social base in high school and college was large enough to regularly have plans made by others. I conquered some of my phone anxiety due to my job and my first girlfriend, but I still don't like calling people that I don't know well in person.

Anyway, I don't share this to cast a dark shadow on my childhood -- my dad's issues make a lot of sense in light of what I know about him today. I bring this up because three unrelated friends have asked me in the past two months if I had cut them off because of something they had done.

The prime evidence: I hadn't called them.

It hurt because I know that each of these friends legitimately missed me. They view me as one willing to share spiritual truth, and they value my place in their lives. Worse, I knew that had any of them reached out to spend time with me, I would have accepted the invitation and enjoyed myself.

Each of them assumed a social and spiritual inferiority with me. While this is an unfounded deception, it fed the belief that I was choosing not to be friends with them anymore. I got this in college a lot: the kid who so easily makes friends couldn't possibly be waiting for anyone to call, could he? In my case, I was...I am. There wasn't isn't a pecking order in my mind; my best friends were are those that were are committed to transcending my insecurities by calling me first.

Want to know the crazy thing? I love introverted people. My favorite friends are those that have demonstrated their trust in me, offering the pieces of themselves that they don't often share. The most profound statements are made by those that save their words for important things; the greatest love is found through those that serve without receiving public reward.

Guess who's not calling me anytime soon...

It angers me that healthy relationships are cast with doubt because Satan plays our lies against one another. One solution is being open about my insecurities; the other is working through them. Being open will hopefully deliver some light in the short term, but I can't count on loved ones meeting me halfway. If these relationships mean something to me, I must continue to chip away at the root. As painful as it has been for God to bring this to my attention, He would not if He did not desire me to work through it. Clearly, I will need His strength; as sure as anything, I will be the timid 13-year-old when I make the call.

there's a lengthy post in my head...

However, I'm experiencing a Sabbath of sorts and don't feel like disturbing it. Who knew Antiques Roadshow would highlight my Saturday night? This might be the point of no return...

mahna mahna

Byron had to use a Fandango credit before it expired tomorrow; since he was traveling with family, he sent the code to me. I rarely go to the theater anymore, but I figured there was no harm in entertaining myself on a holiday weekend, particularly since it was free. I bought a ticket for The Muppets and decided to go solo.

Having been a childhood fan, Jason Segel approached Disney for the opportunity to write a new Muppets script. The result is an unashamed homage to Gen X culture (references are made to Tab, dial-up internet, Molly Ringwald, and Nirvana), skillfully woven through the traditional Muppet plot device: throw together a show to save the day.

Segel and Amy Adams (our best modern day Julie Andrews) do a fine job of keeping the movie light and child friendly. Unlike other "family" PGs of this era, The Muppets doesn't backdoor crudeness to interest the adult. If anything, the sentimental nature of the film sends Gen Xers to a more innocent time when sex, alcohol, and vulgarity weren't required to make us laugh. In one scene, the movie takes a shot at what the networks pitch as entertainment today.

I find this intriguing. Segel casts other buddies that grew up with the Muppets (Jack Black, NPH, Zach Galifianakis, etc.) -- all of them are comical without the overdone schtick. The critics have praised the movie thus far, which has me wondering: if a script like this can be written, why do we settle for a tasteless diet of entertainment?

We're not going to change a culture through boycotting; I'm not one to suggest anything for political reasons. Rather, I think believers should choose to separate themselves from adult comedy because it is of poor taste, and our comical appetites reflect what we've been digesting. Drawing a specific line is tough, but I'm tired of promoting movies for my friends with the accpeted asterisk: "You know, except there's one part in the movie where they [have sex, get wasted, go on a profanity rant]. Watch out for that."

I'm pleased to promote The Muppets without an asterisk, and I'm sorry that this is an exception.

stars among the black

As a night owl disciplining myself for the day, I was pleasantly surprised that the majority of the Black Friday shopping began at 12am this year. Is this commercialism at its worst? Yes. However, I was able to justify my midnight meandering...you know, since I would have been up anyway.

True story: when I was in college, I used to attend the early morning madness for no better reason than to "people watch." I'd find three or four CDs that were knocked under ten dollars, then wait in line for hours to save mere pennies. This ceased to do anything for me during my mid-twenties; during my barista years, I spent Black Friday in a methodical trance: grind, tamp, pull, steam, pour, "Thank you," rinse, grind, tamp, pull, steam, pour, "Thank you," rinse, grind, tamp...

[With the exception of the occasional, "Awwww...he made a leaf in my coffee!"]

Last evening was the first time in roughly ten years that I joined the chaos. I needed new jeans more than anything -- since I still refuse to pay more than $20 for a pair, I waited an hour at Old Navy to buy the only three existing pairs of straight-legged 32-30s and grabbed two pairs of cords while in line. All were half price, and as I already stated: I would have been up anyway!

As the weather gets chilly in Northern Indiana, the sky typically transitions into a perpetual state of overcast on account of the lake. These past two evenings have been uncharacteristically clear, with vibrant stars hanging over our world in magnificent display. Ursa Major points its way towards the North Star to my east; I peer right and see the brilliance of the planet Jupiter.

Over 1300 Earths would be required to fill the volume of Jupiter -- it's surface area is over 120 times the size of our terrain. It is the brightest star of the evening, but from this distance I can easily pinch its area between my thumb and index finger. Even with its might, Jupiter pales in comparison to the reach of God's full creation.

Because everyone in my circle has been talking about faith, I am reminded of the blessing the Lord bestowed on Abraham. After Abraham willingly places his son Isaac on the altar, the angel of the Lord tells him:

"I swear by myself, declares the Lord, that because you have done this and have not withheld your son, your only son, I will surely bless you and make your descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and as the sand on the seashore. Your descendants will take possession of the cities of their enemies, and through your offspring all nations on earth will be blessed, because you have obeyed me." (Genesis 22:16-18)

Bear in mind, Abraham's faith was not contingent on knowing that this was the payoff. His only hope and reassurance was in a single piece of truth: the same God who has created this vast universe will provide the sacrifice. I consider the desires that He has placed on my heart, and they feel so far away. When I acknowledge that there's only one wonderful thing on earth that I lack, it pains me to place it on the altar. God doesn't ask for my money, my career, my location, or my social interests. He knows that these are His. God is jealous for my intimacy because it is the only human thing I value.

Do I trust that the creator of Jupiter, the Big Dipper, and the North Star has provided the sacrifice with my intimacy on the altar? Do I believe that the piece of my heart I've held back for a woman would be honored in His hands instead? Provision has been such a tricky animal; He's offered me just enough to remain in Him, little enough that I continually yearn for heaven. This is indicative of His grace. But I can't help but wonder: if I trusted Him to provide for every need, wouldn't I give Him the last of me?

two realms

God created many things. He created the heavens and the earth. Angels are as much His creation as a tree or a turtle. Nothing was before Him, and nothing exists outside of His hand, whether physical or spiritual. Large, small, holy, or common: all of creation was effortlessly designed by His good will.

However, mankind is the only creation designed to interact and reside in the physical and spiritual realms. We have been given the faculties to reason through our five senses as well as discern and know spiritual things. The majority of us will choose to ignore or deny the latter. Those that do not will see a world vastly different.

I tell people all the time that there are some things you cannot un-experience. Having shared a room with a demon-possessed man and having seen the power and authority our Lord holds over this has changed me. I can no longer miss the enemy's tactics nor look past the spiritual death of the unbelieving world. When the reality of the spiritual realm is known, we are given the choice to engage or cower in fear. To those that resist its existence, the enemy is best served to maintain their ignorance.

Were you to travel to remote South America or Western Africa, you would struggle to find those that deny the spiritual realm. Witchcraft and idolatry is a daily part of life, and the people cannot question the existence of a spiritual realm. To them, the question is not if, but which one. Which lord demonstrates greater power than another? What is the personal benefit of worshiping that power? How do you not fear such a thing?

People from these countries do not want to be convinced of an Almighty God; they have been ruled by many others that manifested great power. They want to know whether your God holds ultimate authority over any principality that would oppress. Only then can He change their lives.

Consider that most American believers have never encountered their God in this way. We are told we have an enemy in scripture, but he too is a distant idea. All the while, the world is dying. Our ignorance or resistance is at the expense of enemy domain and acquisition; he builds strongholds while we interact with the physical like nothing is amiss. We do not see the lies that bind the world around us, yet we wonder what keeps mankind from accepting our God with open arms. We fight our battles in courtrooms while the enemy claims spiritual space. We gather for coffee and donuts while the dead reside outside our walls.

Without an enemy, we have no urgency. If salvation can be found through a good presentation, this is much easier than freeing the captive from a life of spiritual bondage. If the Christian life is good deeds, this is much cleaner than pleading the blood of Christ over the chained. We can walk away and feel good about our purpose; physically, this is perfectly suitable. But for those that cannot un-see the enemy's diligent hate, it's due time to fight the battle in your own backyard. Trust me, it's just beneath the surface.

but a vessel

A symbolic testimony I assumed, presumed to be the man that showed you otherwise. When she and I locked arms, it would demonstrate to the rest that He was redeeming: none considered lost, broken, or impure. Alas, I aged, awaiting the unknown restoration; I traded my pleasure for an unseen hope. No longer a symbol -- no longer qualified. She sustains the privilege of youth while I father her alone: not a lover or romancer, but a guardian of her innocence. And I wonder, for whom am I her keeper? What man bears the blessing of my tears and scars? Who will take her away once I have lifted her and eradicated my use? I shouldn't covet at this stage; one glimpse in the mirror tells a truer story. A million daughters without an ally: my heart cries for justice and rests here alone.

"ahhhh..." said the bachelor

Tis the satisfaction of a frozen pizza after two hours of raking leaves.

reconciling mercy and justice

Six months ago, I was reading Mere Christianity during my overnight shift and was confounded by this excerpt:

[On the indulgence of sex] I do not say that you and I are individually responsible for the present situation. Our ancestors have handed over to us organisms which are warped in this respect: and we grow up surrounded by propaganda in favour of unchastity. There are people who want to keep our sex instinct inflamed in order to make money out of us. Because, of course, a man with an obsession is a man who has very little sales-resistance. God knows our situation; He will not judge us as if we had no difficulties to overcome. What matters is the sincerity and perseverance of our will to overcome them. (Lewis 93, emphasis added)

I desire to handle this topic delicately. The extent of God's mercy has been theologically argued for hundreds of years, and the Greek philosophers debated issues of justice prior to the coming of Christ. This I know for sure: no matter how much C.S. Lewis or myself (I'm not even trying to make a comparison) communicate our understanding of mercy, I'm certain any such message will be tainted with human bias. The best I can do is allow the Spirit to speak as clearly as possible while humbly accepting rebuke from Him as well. Since Romans 9 has been debated without resolution since the protestant reformation, my aim is not to convince you of my point; rather, it is to sharpen your understanding of our Heavenly Father.

What then shall we say? Is God unjust? Not at all! For he says to Moses,

"I will have mercy on whom I have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I have compassion."

It does not, therefore, depend on man's desire or effort, but on God's mercy. For the Scripture says to Pharaoh: "I raised you up for this very purpose, that I might display my power in you and that my name might be proclaimed in all the earth." Therefore God has mercy on whom he wants to have mercy, and he hardens whom he wants to harden. (Romans 9:14-18)

Over the past year, this passage has become a wastebasket of sorts to justify the unexplainable circumstances in my life. Without seeking it, the issue of mercy has arrived in bible studies, church meetings, freedom sessions, and prayer. Sometimes, I feel like this characteristic of God is comparable to a parent answering "because" to the child's question of "why?" God's mercy (or lack thereof) ends the argument, yet often leaves us reeling for a more standardized yardstick.

In contrast, the human race loves law; we want to know the consequence for the crime. By placing lawlessness on a hierarchy, we can make decisions based on the standard for the whole. For example, since we live in a culture that accepts the indulgence of sexuality but condemns murder, we shape our laws to reflect the values of the whole. Likewise, Christians that consider their religious law to supercede the government's may drive 5 MPH over the limit to make it to church on time, or they might download a worship song they do not own to play in bible study.

However, were we to follow God's law for justification rather than out of obedience, we would be condemned. Few are condemned in the natural law for "speeding with the flow of traffic," but breaking "the least" of God's laws is cause for death. Truly, it is the irregular nature of God's mercy that allows any of us to live. Therefore, can we cry foul when He grants more mercy to some than He does for others?

I find solace in Lewis's words: not because it offers a more attainable standard, but because this is the Christ I see throughout the gospels. God will not judge me as if I had a compassionate father. He will not judge me as if I had a partner to bear my burdens. He will not judge me as if my environment was sexually pure, nor will he condemn me for confusion and doubt amidst structural chaos.

Likewise, I will be accountable for my assets. I will not be judged as if I hadn't grown up with His Word. I will not be judged as if I wasn't born into a rich nation. I will not be judged as if I had not received the privilege to experience a Spirit-filled work. God will search my heart according to the mercy He has granted me, and not the mercy or justice He has given someone else. For this, I am fully accountable.

And just when I think I understand this to a science, God will remind me that He knows better than I, offering the simple justification, "Because."

Then the Lord spoke to Job out of the storm:

"Brace yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer me. Would you discredit my justice? Would you condemn me to justify yourself? Do you have an arm like God's and can your voice thunder like his? Then adorn yourself with glory and splendor, and clothe yourself in honor and majesty. Unleash the fury of your wrath, look at every proud man and bring him low, look at every proud man and humble him, crush the wicked where they stand. Bury them all in the dust together; shroud their faces in the grave. Then I myself will admit to you that your own right hand can save you." (Job 40:6-14)

*************************

Jesus answered, "If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me."

When the young man heard this, he went away sad, because he had great wealth.

Then Jesus said to his disciples, "I tell you the truth, it is hard for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.

When the disciples heard this, they were greatly astonished and asked, "Who then can be saved?"

Jesus looked at them and said, "With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible."

Peter answered him, "We have left everything to follow you! What then will there be for us?"

Jesus said to them, "I tell you the truth, at the renewal of all things, when the Son of Man sits on his glorious throne, you who have followed me will also sit on twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel. And everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or fields for my sake will receive a hundred times as much and will inherit eternal life. But many who are first will be last, and many who are last will be first. (Matt. 19:21-30)

*************************

Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a fraction of a penny.

Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, "I tell you the truth, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything -- all she had to live on." (Mark 12:41-44)

*************************

Speak and act as those who are going to be judged by the law that gives freedom, because judgment without mercy will be shown to anyone who has not been merciful. Mercy triumphs over judgment! (James 2:12-13)

i'll call you "miss"...no offense

I stepped into Main Street after my team meeting for coffee and lunch. My former co-worker Beth was standing behind the counter and provided a smile when she spotted me.

"Good morning, miss," I greeted.

She replied, "Did you forget my name already?"

I've been referring to unmarried ladies as "miss" since I reached maturity myself. I like the sound of it. My female campers were "miss." My female math students were "miss." My younger co-workers were "miss." I know that we live in a culture and among a generation averse to terms of endearment or respect, but I feel that when I call someone "miss," it should be understood that I consider her a lady.

[But then, I have a resident that only calls me "sir" when she is growing impatient and demanding. When did the connotation of these terms become derogatory? I missed something...]

finding peace in uncertainty

Sometime in the next six months, there's a very good chance that I may lose my job. Our state government (the one so "concerned" with life) may cut our funding by 33%, even though our regulations auditor came in and said that he had never seen a more impressive therapy program in residential. Our people will likely sue the state to claim foul on such a backbreaking reduction, and the courts will decide our fate as an organization. In the meantime, I am to perform my duties as if my job -- more importantly, these kids' home -- is not in jeopardy.

You know what? I'm not worried about it. It's not a lack of concern based on ignorance; I know all the facts. I know that if He would rather these kids be in treatment than in a foster home, that He'll do His thing. But on a more personal note, God is teaching me that this vessel does not find its usefulness based on the role or target of its ministry.

Three years ago, I was perfectly content being the vessel of light to a coffeehouse filled with unbelieving people. And I loved them more than anyone I had loved before. I had worked hard to earn their respect through the manner Paul suggests to Titus: by living a self-controlled, diligent, and honorable lifestyle that would shame those that would accuse me of doing otherwise. I can walk into Picasso's and generate the same respect from my employer and co-workers. But as God called me from that place in the summer of 2009, I wrestled with one giant insecurity: not a single one of them was saved.

Is it irresponsible to move forward when I do not receive the "fruits of my labor"? I once thought this was so. When I prepared to leave my final youth pastoring position in 2006, I waited until every duck was in a row. I thought to myself, "When this class graduates, and this kid is standing on a firm foundation, and this person is ready to pick up the slack, etc...then I will be ready to move to the next work God has for me." In reality, my blessing was stripped. Had I left nine months earlier when God prompted me, I would have removed myself from the dissension that was to follow. God brought me to Oak Grove to heal, yet I spent the final 12 months of my ministry putting out fires. It wasn't my work any longer.

A good part of demonstrating faith is trusting that God loves His children even more than we love those we are serving, and if He asks us to sever the relationships, regardless of how much we have invested our own hearts, this is a good thing. If my life is to be a "master tiller" for the laborers that would bring in the harvest, so be it.

God used the weekend in St. Louis to show me that life does continue without me, and He will continue to use others to bring my loved ones to a greater understanding of Him. Likewise, if my role to the young ladies I work with is to offer their first glimpse of salt and light, I can trust that a loving Father will continue to apprehend their hearts with other willing vessels. As much as I'd love to prevent my girls from experiencing further pain, it is God's purposes and not my protection that will reconcile their hearts to Him.

As for this vessel, there will always be another job and another set of vulnerable children that need the love of Christ. If I present myself willing rather than irreplaceable, I have few doubts that God will choose the best use of that willingness.

the supremacy of obedience

Byron and I spent the weekend in St. Louis catching up with the many ways that God is at work in the inner-city. Our church body has learned the benefit of living communally, and each missionary has sacrificed his or her own wants for the sake of what is needed today. When God's people trust Him to provide for their every need, the body is not left wanting the things of this world.

I've expressed my struggle with being physically separated from my brothers and sisters. Since God has allowed me to share in the Spirit's move among this church, I have tried desperately in my flesh to duplicate this work, based on the fruit I felt I should reap. How should I respond if He desires me to serve faithfully from a "lower" position?

Having been invited to teach this weekend, I experienced conflict between the pride of my identity and the simple act of obedience. What if my body no longer finds me useful? What if my gifts and skills aren't up to the task of building the same environment here? What if He wants nothing more than for me to bury myself in scripture? What if the training He has anointed me to write will never be mine to teach? What if this vision is never fulfilled in my lifetime?

Am I okay with a humble position and legacy?

Hebrews 11 tells us of many who lived by faith but never reaped the fruit of their own labor. They are honored not for the size of their impact, but for their obedience. Many of us spend years chasing the one thing we know we are created to do; this pursuit is perpetuated by Christian literature, skills tests, and the church itself. Those that do find their "identity" sit around, waiting for the opportunity to be useful, shirking the responsibility of any act of obedience that does not perfectly fit their individual anointing. They sit, and they sit, and they sit, and they sit...

What if you saw God behind a movement and accepted whatever task was necessary to advance His Kingdom? What if this meant submitting to another authority? What if this required you to serve "below" your individual sense of purpose? Would you trust Him anyway? Are you willing to let God break up your short-term plans or ask you to accomplish a menial task if it is what the church needs? Or is your role more important than His timing?

This is the true act of faith: to walk in hope and obedience, even when you cannot see how the task He's given you will lead to your vision being fulfilled. I could whine about being asked today to spend my hours in study rather than gathering the harvest or complain that the task isn't important enough. The alternative is to trust that whatever He asks of me is crucial to His work, He knowing better than I what is necessary to fulfill His plan.

support

I'm heading to St. Louis this morning to see my church body and do a little teaching. It'll be good to feel like an attached limb once again.

my job is occasionally cooler than yours

Have you ever been paid to watch My Girl with teenagers?

Yeah, that's what I thought.

This unique experience elicited a limitless chain reaction of further reflection. Such as...

1. Had Vada Sultenfuss attended my grade school, I would've done everything in my power to keep my distance from her, and failed miserably when my curiosity got the best of me. Over the next three years, countless futile attempts would be made to convince my friends that I didn't like her.
2. In the summer of 1999, a My Girl marathon inspired my friend Gene and I to Yahoo search "Anna Chlumsky." This is significant because obscure celebrity information was just beginning to become available on the internet, and Chlumsky would become the first of roughly 792 actors that I have since referenced. How badly did I care to know her story? Two words: dial up.
3. Chlumsky and Macauley Culkin were both 11-year-olds at the time of release, having played 11-year-olds in the movie. Were My Girl to be filmed today, two 15-year-old Disney stars would be cast solely to sell the accompanying soundtrack. In the modern entertainment age, there will never be a true child actor receiving the widespread acclaim that Culkin did during the early 90s.
4. My Girl belongs to a short list of movies of which a viewer cannot in good conscience make fun of another for crying.
5. Apparently, Dan Aykroyd revealed that a third movie was being considered as recently as 2004, awaiting Chlumsky's return to the big screen. I love the idea on paper, but I don't see it turning out well. I wonder which 30ish actor would play her love interest -- probably some Topher Grace like character. I pass.

desire and envy

The predominant thought on my mind this week:

What causes fights and quarrels among you? Don't they come from your desires that battle within you? You want something but don't get it. You kill and covet, but you cannot have what you want. You quarrel and fight. You do not have, because you do not ask God. When you ask, you do not receive, because you ask with wrong motives, that you may spend what you get on your pleasures.

You adulterous people, don't you know that friendship with the world is hatred toward God? Anyone who chooses to be a friend of the world becomes an enemy of God. Or do you think Scripture says without reason that the spirit he caused to live in us envies intensely? But he gives us more grace. That is why Scripture says:

“God opposes the proud
but gives grace to the humble.”

Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come near to God and he will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded. Grieve, mourn and wail. Change your laughter to mourning and your joy to gloom. Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up. (James 4:1-10)

I struggle to see things aside from what is black and white; how do I know the difference between the desires He places on my heart and those constructed through worldly motives?

As my work has consumed my emotional energy of late, I've noticed my desire for anything of my own has remarkably dwindled. This has occurred at least three times in my life -- when I offer myself solely to the needs of others, I no longer feel grief for what I lack. But I've yet to determine if this is good or holy...

I don't want to serve others purely as a distraction, nor should I kill my flesh so that I cannot feel. It's hard, because this method has its use. When I forget myself entirely, I deny the reality that I long for certain blessings; I feel the fulfillment of serving without the vulnerability of possessing worldly things.

However, this passage bewilders me. James appears to be encouraging us to mourn for the hopelessness of the world so that God can lift us with joy and blessings of His own. Hence the enigma of v. 2-3: how do we know when we should be asking for the blessings He desires to bestow and when to deny the lustful requests that our own hearts have fabricated?

Anybody have a word out there?

employee of the month

I'll try to keep this short; I should already be in bed...

Today I received my third "Employee of the Month" award in my twenty-three months at FCC. While we are fairly diplomatic with our nominations, I admit feeling a bit of pride for this one, receiving it during the first month of my new shift. Working 12-hour days with troubled teens has made me feel incredibly inadequate, so it's nice to know that the trials are being noticed. It can be difficult for me to receive a compliment, but I've found it much easier to accept in an environment that requires the killing of my flesh to succeed.

During group tonight, my co-worker and I had to fend off some staff bashing. Let me say, I have received the blessing of being paired with one of the most selfless direct-care workers I have ever met. The girls are beginning to notice a stark contrast between our shift and others, and one girl even went so far as to state that she spends the weekend waiting for Sunday when we return. Rather than feeding their negativity or our egos, we asked them to explain the difference, so that we could work harder to equally meet their needs.

Their answer? Empathy.

I know that the love of Christ is doing transformational stuff in my life, because I cannot comprehend how five girls who have been emotionally neglected, sexually abused, and substance dependent can appreciate me for being empathetic. I had grown up believing that the difference between sympathy and empathy was experience, that we cannot empathize with a situation we have not endured. Perhaps this is true on our own. But we serve and know the perfect love of a High Priest that has walked in this flesh, and His Spirit has granted us the privilege of pouring out the overflow of His love.

The world yearns for a Body that cares enough to actively listen and empathize with its mess. Quick solutions and comforting statements are not the answer; people need to know that while their dysfunction is real, our God is bigger. If we are too focused on ourselves or our own wisdom to notice, the lost will never know His love: the life-changing truth that sets us free, turning our once painful story into a testimony of His grace.

for many, a haunting reality

I'll take the road less traveled by
That's what my father always said
Now he works in an office
With a whore in his bed

My mother sleeps alone at night
Dreaming of all her regret inside
I wanna tell her that I love her

Oh and if I could
I would've given her so much better
Cause no don't you tell me
That that man is my father
Oh just some hooded conceiver
Who tried really, really hard to please her

So I'm returning to my gladness
When I was only ten
Playing football in the front yard
And sweating with my friends

I remember when I was thirteen
It was October something
I was standing on that front lawn listening
That was the first time I heard You calling
As the sun was cooling down
And the moms were about to drive their kids around

And they say, "Blah, blah, blah, blah"
And they say, "Blah, blah, blah"
They give us truth deceiving
I don't think that's truth at all

And they say, "Blah, blah, blah, blah"
And they say. "Blah, blah, blah"
They give us love that's leaving
I don't think that's love

Oh and the steeple people
Oh they're so happy not knowing You
So boldly do they pervert Your truth
Oh did they think we wouldn't grow up
Did they think we couldn't throw back up
The sour milk they've been pouring down out throats

Oh they have raised one pissed off generation
With kids that have to start taking care of them
Like "Hey mom, get to work on time"
And "Hey dad, would you come home tonight?"
And "The both of you, stop drinking so much wine"

And they say, "Blah, blah, blah, blah"
And they say, "Blah, blah, blah"
They give us truth deceiving
I don't think that's truth at all

And they say, "Blah, blah, blah, blah"
And they say, "Blah, blah, blah"
They give us love that's leaving
I don't think that's love

-- "Sour Milk" by Wild Sweet Orange, from We Have Cause To Be Uneasy"

applying makeup

Yesterday morning, one of our residents was not allowed access to her makeup as a result of her poor behavior. She went to school and some stupid boy made a comment about her being ugly. Whether his statement was a response to her uncovered face or a petty, first-grade comeback from a high school student was irrelevant. My resident felt exposed and decided that she would rather skip school for the rest of the day than be seen without her covering.

I'll be honest, I generally hate makeup. I understand its usefulness, and have occasionally seen it applied in ways that accentuate amazing qualities. But as a whole, it seems to be more commonly applied to fix the characteristics that women find least presentable. I understand that a woman desires to be presentable and accepted as beautiful, so I can only speak from a dude-point-of-view: I want to find a woman beautiful as she is, rather than what she must make herself to be.

Later in the evening, I was struggling with another resident that typically gives me the most resistance. The most simple direction can lead her to become frustrated with me, and she approaches our relationship differently than she does with other staff. This time, I upset her good when she was given a consequence for using foul language. After a long rant (to which I did not reply), she sat in a chair to cool down. She finally addressed me in a calm voice, only to ask if she could call someone else since she couldn't talk to me.

I used this moment to address the heart of our problem. She doesn't trust me because she doesn't know me, but she doesn't know me because she doesn't trust me. I began pouring from my heart how her actions -- and my "job obligation" to her actions -- were driving a wedge between us. She had drawn some faulty conclusions about me based on perceptions she had made. She felt she was being targeted, and that I was bent on seeing her fail. Each time she saw my initials next to a consequence, she assumed it was my decision alone, and not one made by the entire team.

As I began to express from my heart the false judgments that were being made, I became a bit glassy eyed. It was "unprofessional" for me to get choked up at work, but for the first time, the resident was able to see that our struggle (and its resolution) meant something to me. I wasn't just a cold body intent on making her life miserable; I was a caring adult that was just as frustrated as she was.

On the way home, I thought about my post from Saturday. I believe that I've taken a sense of pride in being unshaken by the wind and waves, giving others the impression that I do not feel as they do. This is why the "hero complex" has bothered me so greatly: I know that I'm being evaluated on my costume and not the beauty (or mess) inside.

There's a disconnect between the strong, unblemished face we want people to see and the purified face that we want to admire. A superhero rarely gets the girl because he wrestles to uphold the identity and strength of his character while she longs to know the man underneath. In each of these stories, the man determines that the need for a hero outweighs his personal desire to be known unveiled.

If I take off the makeup, I must face the fear of being vulnerable. The world will see my pimples, scars, and discolorations. My bedhead will rest above these puffy, tired eyes. The mask will become useless when I am first exposed, because everyone will know that my strength is a facade. You will not forget the ugly tears that fall upon real flesh.

I'm tired of hating what I've become, while the original image lies beneath.

romantic blind spot

During my Facebook days, one of my co-workers was tagging friends on an "identity" poster, one that asked her to specify which friend is best characterized by each Disney character:

Crude and immature? Yes, but isn't that the heart of Facebook fun? Having been tagged myself, I scanned across the poster, awaiting the identity that my unbelieving friend had given me. My jaw clenched and my nostrils flared as my mouse rested on an all too familiar destination.

"The One That Saves The Day"

Everyone that knows me knows that I hate this. Fell free to call me a rogue, a loner, or a thinker. Jokingly refer to me as bipolar, moody, or intense. Openly question my discontent or my random state of melancholy. I will bear no offense. Allow me to be anything but the hero.

I was driving to work a couple days ago, listening to my autumn tunes. While never one of my favorite Simon and Garfunkel songs, the following lyrics rang profoundly that cool morning:

It's a still life water color
Of a now late afternoon
As the sun shines through the curtained lace
And shadows wash the room
And we sit and drink our coffee
Couched in our indifference
Like shells upon the shore
You can hear the ocean roar
In the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs
The borders of our lives

And you read your Emily Dickinson
And I my Robert Frost
And we note our place with bookmarkers
That measure what we've lost
Like a poem poorly written
We are verses out of rhythm
Couplets out of rhyme
In syncopated time
And the dangled conversation
And the superficial sighs
Are the borders of our lives

Yes, we speak of things that matter
With words that must be said
"Can analysis be worthwhile?"
"Is the theater really dead?"
And how the room is softly faded
And I only kiss your shadow
I cannot feel your hand
You're a stranger now unto me
Lost in the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs
In the borders of our lives

-- The Dangling Conversation

Whereas Simon wrote these words to describe the monotony of a deteriorating relationship, I found myself stricken with a bit of envy. I realized that for as long as I have despised the "hero" tag from women, I have never allowed myself to be anything else. I have a complete inability to engage in the small talk common with the modern couple -- the only time I have ever felt welcome or useful to a woman is when she has needed to be saved.

Let's look at my track history. I have cared for two women deeply: both under 5'0 tall, both too reckless with their hearts, both prior victims of abuse, both trying to get their spiritual lives in order after mistakes, both fully willing to let me be their perfect man...

Big problem: I couldn't save them. They were never mine to save. The minute I let down my guard, transitioning from a strong and noble god to a fractured man with emotional needs, they were finished. Sure, had I never attempted to usurp God's position, they may have never been interested in me at all. But what dysfunction would cause me to place that level of pressure on myself...or participate in that level of spiritual corruption?

I recognize that I don't trust women to love me for who I am. I will forever be incapable of the "dangling conversation," because worldly things have so little value to me. Likewise, being "The One That Saves The Day" leads me forever through a string of co-dependency. I struggle daily to ask this question, leading me to disregard her in prayer, but what is it that I want?

I want a real partner. Even as I glorify the idea in my mind, I don't want someone to simply fill space beside me. I desire a woman who will minister with me, worship with me, raise children with me, and never grow tired of speaking of the things of God, because these are the only things that truly interest me. And while I feel as if I must continuously dig for other worldly things to break the ice with 21st century women, I know that this is no way to begin a righteous relationship. If "we speak of things that matter," and it doesn't involve Christ or our mutual pursuit of Him, I'll feel like I'm wasting my time.

And I'll be perfectly honest, I don't know if what I want exists.

inseparable

While studying 1 John for the purity project, I was delighted when God gave me a rhema nugget that echoed so much of what He's been showing me over the past two years:

If we say that we have fellowship with Him and yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not practice the truth; but if we walk in the Light as He Himself is in the Light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus His Son cleanses us from all sin. (1 John 1:6-7)

In context with my research, I sought this passage to confirm our dependency on Christ to remain pure and clean. However, it was the other effect of living as light that leaped off the page:

...we have fellowship with one another

While my initial reaction was that John is stating our fellowship with other believers is likewise dependent on our living in the Light -- a point that I would very much like to make -- I dug further to be certain. John could have just as well meant that we have fellowship with God, and a version or two may have poorly translated the term "one another."

[This is where the teacher in me sometimes remains at conflict with the Word received through the Spirit. The teacher desires to share something sound, foolproof, and supported by the academic consensus; the Spirit wants me to receive His Word and proclaim it as truth.]

Thankfully, my study affirmed the word that God had already written on my heart. If John had meant "with Him," he wouldn't have said "with one another." John desires the reader to understand that our purity from sin reaches to the very core of His Church -- the holy unity we possess with one another is a result of legitimate repentance and confession of our sin.

If I own this truth, I also own these conclusions:

1) Only by living in Him can we also be in pure fellowship with other believers.
2) We cannot have unity with the Body while living in darkness.

1 John is a beautiful book because it never allows us to separate the act of knowing God from loving our brother. Simply stated, we cannot claim to know God if we do not love our brother, and we cannot love our brother without first knowing God. We cannot love God if we love the world, thus we cannot love our brother if we love the world.

The one who says he is in the Light and yet hates his brother is in the darkness until now. The one who loves his brother abides in the Light and there is no cause for stumbling in him. But the one who hates his brother is in the darkness and walks in the darkness, and does not know where he is going because the darkness has blinded his eyes. (2:9-11)

Do not love the world nor the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. (2:15)

By this the children of God and the children of the devil are obvious: anyone who does not practice righteousness is not of God, nor the one who does not love his brother. (3:10)

Do not be surprised, brethren, if the world hates you. We know that we have passed out of death into life, because we love the brethren. He who does not love abides in death. (3:13-14)

We know love by this, that He laid down His life for us; and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren. But whoever has the world’s goods, and sees his brother in need and closes his heart against him, how does the love of God abide in him? (3:16-17)

Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God; and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. The one who does not love does not know God, for God is love. By this the love of God was manifested in us, that God has sent His only begotten Son into the world so that we might live through Him. In this is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the propitiation for our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. (4:7-11)

We love, because He first loved us. If someone says, “I love God,” and hates his brother, he is a liar; for the one who does not love his brother whom he has seen, cannot love God whom he has not seen. (4:19-20)

We must understand that we cannot live according to Him if we do not know Him. As much as the world has constructed its own definition of "love," we cannot serve our brother humbly, selflessly, and without expectation apart from Christ. The world's form of "love" may look similar in action, but the Light reveals the motivations of our hearts. The world's "love" always requires something in return.

If we are truly living according to His Spirit, our lives will bear the overflow of His love within us. We will be unable to contain our love, because we'll know the perfect love that has led us to repentance, salvation, and intimacy with Him. This is the love that "casts out fear" (4:18), because it speaks of the hope we have in Christ. When our "love" is driven by fear, insecurity, envy, or manipulation, we are not living according to this hope.

It is also appropriate to heed warning within the Body. If we seek spiritual brotherhood with unrepentant hearts that are unwilling to be exposed or purified by the Light, we are by result corrupting His Church. We have no brotherhood with those living in darkness. Yet every day, believers worship with those living according to the world as if we are trying to attain fellowship through our own faculties. We have been given no right to do this. God desires to present His Bride as pure, but if we redefine the terms of being associated with the priesthood, we offer something less than holy. As believers, we have no legitimate unity with darkness, as much as we'd love to feel "connected" or "relevant."

We should regularly ask God to evaluate our hearts and to bring any darkness to light. We must also be cognizant of the relationship our heart has with our fellowship. If we desire to love perfectly, we must first allow Him to purify us from unrighteousness. If we profess a love for Christ, it should be manifested in our love for mankind rather than a clinging to the world. And if we would seek communion in the Body, this wonderful gift can only be found among those already in communion with Him.

there are some days with these girls...

...that they suck the very life out of me. And then I drive home alone in the peace and quiet, remembering that I'm the closest thing they have to an earthly father.

I'm just asking God that I could honorably justify the second realization while enduring the first, because these are the days that I feel the smallest.

radical acceptance

My favorite distress skill that we teach our girls is radical acceptance, which is based on the principle that pain + avoidance of reality = suffering. Granted, our therapy is secular, and is far too incomplete outside a work of the Spirit, but I'm in favor of any word that encourages hurting people to accept truth and confront lies.

The truth is, the things in life through which we become most frustrated are often the areas that we cannot control. We cannot accept the fact that something hurtful is outside our control, so we try harder to either resolve the unresolvable or to bury our pain and pretend it never existed. Both of these lead to further suffering: the first directly, and the latter through the alternative life we must live to deny the circumstances of reality.

People get angry when I make direct links between unresolved pain and common worldly patterns of behavior, particularly among believers. Part of what makes the American gospel so attractive to suffering people is the thought that "the past is in the past," and it shouldn't need to be discussed further under grace. However, this is the difference between scripture's pursuit of redemption and the American value of tolerance.

Tolerance says we shouldn't draw conclusions (i.e. "judge") based on reality. Meanwhile, redemption desires to restore all things for the sake of His glory, pain included. Is it easy? Absolutely not -- hence the reason avoiding reality is the path of least resistance. But to truly comprehend God's amazing grace, we must do more than forget the past; we should be touched to such a degree that even our deepest wounds bear an amazing testimony of His restoring power and love.

I don't believe that we can know the truth without Him. Christ is the perfect model for One who knew the excruciating pain of rejection and betrayal that we often mask, yet never hid behind the right to be offended, disrespected, or embittered. Even while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. He knew the full score and still chose redemption over His personal rights and comfort.

While most of us have not come close to experiencing this level of persecution, we are still tempted to disconnect our pain, shame, or regret from the sinful patterns existing in our lives. We can become frustrated in battling the symptoms of our condition while avoiding the painful reality that remains. This is truly a life of unnecessary suffering. But God longs to touch those tender areas of greatest resistance and transform us into beacons of light that proclaim His glory through a sometimes unsavory story.

That's some radical acceptance.

why would He want this?

For whatever reason, it has been painfully difficult to center my mind on Christ this week. It could be a number of things: engaging the spiritual battle with this consecration project, being annoyed with not finding a single piece of useful information written by a single male, "celebrating" another birthday with my parents at age 33, staying up too late / sleeping in too late, seeing indoor housework that I don't feel motivated to finish, etc.

He's certainly present, but I acknowledge that I've been resistant. My resistance has not been aggressive; I'm nonchalantly ignoring the Spirit as if He's deserving of my being aloof, same as I've related with every other friend lately. I feel as if my friends cannot empathize, so I'm tired of rehashing the same old discontented thoughts about His Kingdom here in the U.S. I feel as if my Father does understand but has decided to leave me on this earth anyway, so what's the use in ruining myself further for an audience of One?

Somewhere I've missed that the point for Him is to be with me. I'm not used to that. I've known God personally for fifteen years, and it's still hard for me to accept being wanted without offering a service. To my friends in elementary school I was popular and imaginative, to my friends in high school I was romantic and accepting, to my camp and small group kids I was cool and fun, to my youth group teens I was insightful and wise, and to the coffeehouse world I was a calming presence. I've rarely been chosen or sought for my heart -- when I have it's ended badly, whether for their misdeeds or my own.

To choose His Spirit is to respond to Something that has found me first. When I feel like my life is absent of fruit, I feel I have nothing to give Him of use. In reality, He never asked for that as a bargaining chip. He's pleased when I offer my life sacrificially, but my cleanliness was never a term of agreement for our relationship.

First, He is my Creator: I am a living manifestation of His glory and masculinity.

Second, He is my Redeemer: I am a saved and cleansed by His selfless act and the shedding of His blood.

Third, He is my Restorer: I am being molded and perfected according to His likeness and His original intent.

None of these roles say anything about what He gains from me. Am I comfortable engaging fully in a relationship where I am the sole benefactor? Or must I comprehend the treasure that I am to Him to accept the blessing of His continual presence? I don't know that I'll ever understand that on earth.

And I see where this same problem casts poison into my earthly relationships. One man has accepted the blessing of pouring into my life without return, and I find it difficult to even make a phone call for fear of being a burden. One hypothetical woman would serve as my grace in marriage, but instead I've pursued those that will feast on my spirit without reciprocation. When did I decide that I should not receive good gifts?

I don't think that I consciously decided this, but my faith is lacking. To place hope in receiving a love that considers my heart above my services is unprecedented and uncomfortable. I've come to assume that God and my loved ones don't want it. I know for a fact that this is a lie about God. He has endured some drastic measures to hold my heart. I cannot say for certain that a mortal would ever desire my heart. It is when I attribute this lack of faith to the assurance I have in my Father that our relationship becomes corrupt.

Maybe I should stop writing and begin praying...

soliciting your help

As many of you know, I am preparing a training on holiness, purity, and the process of consecration. I am currently lodged in the research stage, and my free time over the next four weeks will be heavily invested in this work.

While I am compiling, sorting, and writing this teaching, I'm open to any resources you may have at your disposal. If you have any well-written books, blogs, songs, short stories -- anything that pertains to the topic of holiness and purity -- I'd love to hear about them. I look forward to reading from a multitude of resources on various areas of purity: both classical and modern. And don't worry about stating the obvious; though I'm putting together a massive study on purity, I haven't read any Elisabeth Eliot. Shameful, I know...but that's where your suggestions are of help :)

When I finish my rough draft, I'm going to present the training to my folks in St. Louis for a trial run. I'll give y'all updates as it comes together. God has laid this heavy on my heart, and I'm super excited to jump into the topic with my full attention.

Thank you, my virtual friends!

ANTHONY

#1 - Today and beyond...

Praise the Lord -- we had a good day at work!

I left Wednesday night exhausted after my first marathon of days. Having endured three straight 12-hour shifts with a smile on my face, the girls saved their worst day for my last. Whatever level of success I might feel working with at-risk teens, the bad day can make me feel like a complete failure. Having to go back to work on my birthday, I was praying for a little comfort.

So I spent #33 working "girls night": an evening of primping, hair styling, and picture taking. Doesn't that beat all? The girls were beaming with confidence as they dressed up one another, while the lone male could do nothing but laugh and lend compliments for their fashion show.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is my life :)

I admit, there are days when it's hard not to evaluate myself according to the world's standard. When I do, it feels as if my life is traveling in reverse. Achieving ministerial "status" is what many believers work towards, and I've spent the past five years working away from it. Engaging Christ like a child means dismissing the idea that I am the one with something to offer.

This is the battle within me: one day reaching to the past for my sense of worth, the next progressing in faith behind closed doors as my legend dissipates. I've heard Christians say that they want to leave a legacy. Well, I did that by age 25; it's a chasing of the wind. We ought to desire leaving something that doesn't require us to look back -- we ought to bear fruit.

If my quieter life makes more reproducing disciples than the number of kids that answered my altar calls, isn't that a better story? If I had died years ago, the eulogy would have been substantial, but my ministry would have perished along with that pile of flesh. Today, my funeral would gather a handful of family and friends, but my spiritual descendants could be like the stars!

Why do I forget this? Why does my flesh covet the 300 "Happy Birthdays" that my former self would warrant? Why does social prostitution appear more gratifying than His will?

My struggle is tied to His Presence. The minute I see His wonderful face, the concerns of this world are ripped to shreds. They all seem so silly, so arbitrary. However, when I forget that my heavenly body has yet to be worn, I pledge allegiance to my past.

With my celebrations and feasting behind me, tomorrow is another day closer to eternity: a day without end. If by this fact alone, today is better than yesterday -- tomorrow is better yet. Its goodness is not conditioned by my work success or the relative importance of one calendar square. In the morning, October 10 will draw me closer to His Presence than my birthday has, and that will be glorious.

#2 - Sunday, October 7, 2007

Four years ago this weekend, I was anointed to lead this "Solomon Generation" into a fresh move of the Spirit and the work of reconciliation He has appointed to us. I wrote about the specifics of that anointing here, so I'll refrain from regurgitation. Suffice it to say, I commonly feel like a kid being given the keys to a vehicle infinitely too large to drive...and being asked to take it for a spin.

I believe this is how God would have us follow. Whereas our American predecessors learned the limitations of their flesh and efficiently worked within those boundaries, God is calling us to reach beyond our sight, into a move we are too tiny to direct. Without His Spirit, His authority, His sovereignty, His guidance, and His grace, the kingdom work of our generation will pass away with little noise. We've seen the visible demonstrations of the church's ambition to make God known, but God would have this generation submit to Him as vessels of the physically impossible.

Are you willing? Whether you are capable is irrelevant, because He will decide what shall be used for His Purpose. If God chooses to manifest His power and presence through you, the only question is whether you will lay your life before Him to serve a noble use. He alone makes us pure, and He alone will make His message irresistible to the ears of your people. For you and I, this is all about posture: will we dismiss the clutter of the world to be filled to the brim by His Presence?

I want it all. Heaven forbid this body should perish without the entirety of my heart serving His Kingdom. The common things that comfort my flesh shall be eradicated one by one, leaving only the skin and bones that carry His Word to accompany His Spirit within me. What other use am I? If I make you laugh, but my people should perish, my hope is empty. If I am remembered fondly for my passion and imagination, but our generation contributes nothing to advance Him, for what purpose have I motivated?

This blog was named Solomon's Ledger because I believe that God will orchestrate volumes for the generation that seeks His face. I believe that we have been granted the opportunity and privilege to be that generation. With that privilege, we can do what we'd like. We can defend our position and establishment to the death, attaining nothing but the worldly honor of our zeal, or we can aggressively advance His domain among creation through whatever unforeseen move He directs. One is a recognized entity; we know exactly what will be reaped by doing the same thing. The other is a lesson in humility, faith, trust, and intimacy: the breathtaking motion of hearts anxiously awaiting His next word.

#3 - Friday, October 5-11, 1989-96; 2011

Even if you hate football, persist through the early portion of this post. I promise there's a point.

For the sake of relevancy, I felt the need to abandon chronology and my own rules, to present a day that has been the greatest common denominator of every birthday lived in Bremen, IN.

When two small community schools equaling 1000 students were mentioned together as one of ten "Unrivaled Rivalries" by Sports Illustrated (November 14, 1994), I was a sophomore in high school. Ten days earlier, the Bremen Lions had stunned the previously undefeated and top-ranked Jimtown Jimmies 27-0 for the football sectional title, in route to their second state championship.

I've never been an athlete. God designed me to be short and slow, and He decided in the long run I'd be better served by a sharp mind. But I've always loved a good-natured and passionate competition, thus I spent the Friday of my birthday week watching football...for eight consecutive years.

When Bremen first entered the Northern State Conference in 1989, we were already well acquainted with Jimtown. They had defeated us at regional in 1987 (one of the first games I remember attending), finishing runner-up in the state; they were knocked off prematurely in 1988 when we finished runner-up in the state.

In 1989, we split our meetings, but Bremen claimed its first state championship two years ahead of our growing rival. The next six years were a see-saw back and forth -- the underdog winning more often than not. Each game had something important on the line, and the intensity was thicker than anything I experienced as an adolescent.

I find it fitting that as the Bremen team declined heavily in the years since I moved away, they have found success upon my return. This year's team stood 7-0 entering tonight's matchup, and there was hardly an unclaimed bleacher seat to be found. A healthy percentage of our town of 5000 made the trip north to see our community represented.

It wasn't the Bremen victory alone that made this evening memorable, and tonight was no more iconic than the other twenty times I have watched these teams battle. But this silly game is a strong link to a simpler childhood, one that didn't need a billion distractions to keep me from feeling alone on my birthday. I remember being part of something larger than myself, and it gave me greater joy than any gift.

As I've written this year about feeling disconnected from my St. Louis church family, I think I miss that level of belonging: recognizing the fruit of something experienced together and receiving a joy shared by the whole. In the end, a football program is meaningless, but Christ's Bride has been put on display to present His glory and fame to the world. It doesn't require a respected publication to proclaim the significance of the Church's mission, any more than a football team needs national press to validate the magnitude of its rivalry. It is our passion and zeal for the Kingdom that shouts of God's fervent move among mankind.

On either account, it's good to feel at home.

#4 - Friday, September 8, 2006

I spent the first few days in Kansas City mapping out the region. A missionary couple housed me in "the hood" until I could find an apartment; I drove into the commercial district each late afternoon and parked my car for the evening. KC provides free parking in its upscale district, and the weather was wonderful for exploring the rest on foot.

In the homegrown Westport district, I stop at Broadway Café** for a latte. It's my kind of place: no need for product logos, fashionable cups, or barista flare -- just quality espresso at a quality price. I sit outside the storefront, and choose the only empty steel chair. To my right, a man is smoking clove cigarettes and sketching. To my left, two men engage in heavy debate over the upcoming mayoral election. Just a week before, I was a youth pastor. At the ripe age of 27, I am receiving my first glance at everyday life.

[This is what the world does while I "operate" the church?]

Jarrod approaches me first and sees my Bible. He's wearing an interesting covering and begins sharing his salvation testimony. He speaks boldly about how the church has lifted up its leaders as in the days of the tower of Babel. A tower is a high and visible symbol with little foundation. Jarrod shares that just as Americans placed George Washington on this shaky pedestal, we do with leaders today. I mull over the street-side prophesy for some time.

Kevin calls to me next, a 20-something man asking to borrow my cell phone. I innocently oblige, and he shares his story: out of a job, short on money, phone disconnected, his own child estranged, getting off the bottle. His friend arrives from a long day at work and engages in comical (and colorful) repartee. A few more f-bombs than I'm used to hearing during worship service, but I'm enjoying myself in the new environment. He asks what I do for a living. I tell him I'm an unemployed minister hoping to get a job at this fine café. [F-bombs of disbelief.] We discuss Jesus and His Church for a while, and the man says that he wishes he could have one without the other. I tell him that seems to be the consensus around here.

By this point, there are four guys talking, and another man with a SWEET Richard Dean Anderson mullet parks his DMC-12 in front. [This one couldn't fly.] We walk around admiring his machinery, and he responds like he's used to it. The other guys ask if I'd like to head to their apartment to play dominoes, or "bones" as they dub them. I reply that I'd love to, but didn't know how. These guys had apparently learned in prison, and all of them were at some stage of sobriety, living out their probation together to hold one another accountable. This, in fact, is probably the wisest thing these men have ever done.

We play dominoes until the wee hours of the evening, and I inform them that I need to get going. They exchange hugs and treat me like I've known them for years. These are the scattered, lost, and broken. These are the men I have never known. This is my generation.
 
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**Funny: I remember looking at this website five years ago and being intimidated by their latte art, having never done any at Sufficient.  I wasn't quite alternative enough for Broadway to hire me, but looking back today, my Picasso's training makes their pics look like my average work.  I'm just saying.